We only left the campsite for produce yesterday and then came back to relax. Heavy rain came and went and in between times the sky would clear completely, so I would think we had seen the last of it (HUGE thunderstorm in the middle of the night, though). I had been having a new foot/ankle problem that was becoming more than merely annoying. I tried every stretch I know, consulted my little yoga book, took it easy…the pain only seemed to worsen, but it usually felt better after I had walked at least a mile. I haven’t been running much. Danine is taking up jogging on her trip and I had seemed to be putting it down, but yesterday I itched for a run so I ran in the rain down to the ranger station and back, definitely not even two miles (and the sweetheart down there handed me a towel when I walked in) and I swear my foot feels better today. So I took another run this afternoon in the hopes of feeling even better tomorrow. Is it possible that my foot was telling me to go running? What I can never stop running or my joints will rebel?!
Yeah, so ever since I got that little yoga book out I keep trying new poses. I feel so awkward and comical I wonder if my neighbors are peering at me through their windows “Honey come here! She’s doing it again.”
Today’s tour was Natchez (NATCH-ez), which at one time contained as many as 500 millionaires–more than any other city in the US at the time except NYC. The historical district is much larger and grander than Hattiesburg. You can tour about a dozen mansions here, some of them antebellum, but many of the smaller houses in the district are on the national historic register, too, and quite beautiful. Every street is fun to see. I recommend it. FYI there are a handful awaiting restoration, some of them with excellent views of the river.
If I recall correctly, Stanton Hall was built by an immigrant from Dublin, who built a replica of his Irish home in Natchez. I tried to keep pace with a horse cart tour so I could eavesdrop but Angus would have none of it.
I was thrilled to see the Mississippi River, though I can’t explain why. Maybe it’s the Mark Twain fan in me. Maybe it’s because it’s such a convenient and frequently used US divider and it seems exotic to an easterner. I’m happy to be seeing it again tomorrow when I cross it into Arkansas.
The mighty Mississippi
It probably doesn’t look that impressive, does it? But it was grand to see in person.
So after we came back to the campsite I was reading my novel about a Natchez family when I heard a ruckus in the trees above. I looked up just in time to see a raccoon (?) fall thirty feet out of a dead tree in what looked like an unhealthy attitude (did the flight terminology rub off on me?). I didn’t hear him scamper off after hitting the ground either, but Lucy investigated and came up with nothing. What makes a raccoon fall out of a tree? I eyed it a little more and it looked like there was a bees’ nest in a hole in the trunk. Was the raccoon a would-be honey thief? And aren’t they nocturnal?